I Wish
by The-Right-Girl
Summary: I can't stop running-I just can't. Whether it's due to some deep, primal fear, or the need to run-run-run...I don't know. I just know that I have to get away, I have to go somewhere else. (Short one-shot. Brief reference to the Goblin King. Might expand, but don't expect it to.)
1. Chapter 1

_I wish…_

Lungs gasp for air as legs propel me forward, pushing me through the whipping branches of a dark green and black painted forest.

_I wish…_

The path has been left far, far behind. How far? I don't know, nor do I bother to let the question linger. I've got to get away; somewhere, anywhere would do, save for where I was.

"I…wish…"

I try to pant the words out: words from a story about a king, from some tale heard long ago. Or was it a few weeks ago?

I don't remember.

I'm gasping for air, due to the pace I keep. Run, run, run…mustn't stop, mustn't walk, just run-run-run-run-run—

I trip-I fall, I get up, I run.

To where?

I don't know.

Why?

I can't recall.

My skin stings—I'm positive I'm bleeding; cuts, scraps, bruises adorning my skin, painted on by the violent force of my running hitting me on motionless branches, tripping me onto rocks.

"….I-I-I w-wish…"

My voice is raw; I won't bother wishing on a star, or hoping for a four-leaf clover. They never worked, so why would they now?

No, there's only one way left to me now.

But…will my voice say it?

I'm sure, if I stopped, caught my breath, I could wish it. But…something, some force—primal fear? A senseless need?—demands I don't-stop-don't-stop-don't-stop.

I must force the words out—even if my throat bleeds raw, I have to speak.

"I-I wish…t-t-the goblins…would…t-t-take m-me…away." I huff out the words in what is surely panting whispers, but I am not quite finished. But I will.

"R-right…n-now…"

Nothing.

And then I'm free.


	2. Chapter 2

Or so I thought.

Tall, walls are stretched high all around me—when had they appeared? Or had they always been there?

I don't know.

I turn my head quickly, overwhelmed by regret at the action when everything suddenly swirled and wobbled, distorting.

Where, _where,_ _**where am I!?**_

My stomach roils with my panic. I swallow, trying to stop the rising bile and terror from overwhelming me.

_I'm not there, I'm here, the words worked_…

But...

My back touches something solid and cool. I freeze, slowly put a hand back to feel…

_Just a wall._

I hope.

More slowly, head pounding, I look about me again, the rasps of my breath sounding loud to my ears even as I force my breathing to slow.

Walls with uneven brickwork, behind and to both sides of me. Narrow, but wide enough. Dusty, too.

_Glitter...?_

I lick my lips, dry as they are, and taste blood.

_Focus, calm down and focus…_

Easier thought than actually done.

_Come on, what's around you?_

Walls, an opening before me.

_Dead end?_

As far as I can see, the walls stretch on endlessly.

Here is much safer than…_there._

I hear my breath hitch.

_Don't think about it, __**don't.**_

Focus. A deep inhale to do so.

The air is dry, and I easily smell the dust that covers the walls.

_Cave? _

Too bright.

_Trench of sorts?_

Makes more sense, but I don't care to figure out what the structure could be right now.

The tang of my blood—both in my mouth and scented in my nose— is hard to ignore.

_Thirsty…_

My head throbs as well everything I see, and I draw my eyelids close.

_You can breathe now,_ I tell myself in an attempt to somehow fight against how my level of dread was rising once again.

_Think!_

I can't stay where I am, even though it seems safe so far.

Is it really, though?

_Focus! And breath._

A moment to rest, to recombobulate myself from have to run from—

**No!**

_Focus on __**now,**_ I slide down the bricked wall, curling my legs to my chest to make myself smaller. _Look and plan._

I open my eyes, and hold my breath.

The walls haven't changed. The ground, I think, is the same. Structure wise, anyway.

But now there are…branches of sorts, leaning on the walls as they extend.

I wait. I breathe.

Nothing moves.

Slowly, I unfurl myself. Push myself to my feet.

_Can't stay here._

Water. I need water, and very soon.

One shaky step—then I slowly walk, keeping my left hand on the wall, not trusting myself to no support.

My heart is still beating fast, but not as it was before, a slow yet steady throb in my head that makes my vision pulse.

But I can't stay here.


End file.
